Combustion
by Gemleaf
Summary: Teldryn Sero is on a routine trip to Skyrim with a client. A man gets lost, Teldryn gets hired to help look for him, and hopefully this man turns up before Frostfall. That's all there is to it.
1. Chapter 1

New Edit: I realized that somehow the places where I had created pauses transitioning to new scenes were gone. I put them back and the story should be easier to read now.

...

The Retching Netch was starved for patrons and packed with silence - business as usual for an unassuming late night in Raven Rock. A lone barkeep with a furrowed brow washed clean dishes marred by faded stains destined to stay forever. There wasn't much else to do. The tiniest sounds echoed back from the domed ceiling. It wasn't completely empty, though. A withered woman cried into a half-empty mug of sujamma. In a tucked away corner, a young couple sat intertwined, whispering into each other's ears with no sense of shame. Geldis, the barkeep, would chase those two out soon enough. They hadn't paid for their drinks and didn't seem interested in doing so, either.

Of course, there was the sellsword. People assumed he was a quiet man… he consistently proved them wrong. The man loved to chatter to anyone who would listen. On a slow night with no fresh stories to tell to Geldis and lacking a new audience, he was restless. Aimlessly, he browsed shelves for nothing in particular. He liked to say that he was a 'man of activity'; Geldis was sure he just didn't like being alone with his thoughts. Not that he'd ever actually argue with him about that. After all, Teldryn Sero paid weeks in advance for a room he hardly ever slept in.

Geldis adjusted to the tedium. Maybe he could organize his cups? Maybe he could finally try to brew that new recipe of his?

The front door slammed open.

"Hey!" he tossed down the rag, "You'll have to pay for that door if you break it!" Geldis hurried from behind the counter.

The doorway framed a shockingly reptilian face. Her yellow eyes gleamed cold against the warm light of the Netch. Green-scaled hands gripped a heavy traveler's backpack. She stared blankly at him, tilted her head and nodded in a bizarre non-acknowledgment. One couldn't help but wonder if she even understood what exactly he said at all. She focused her attention on Teldryn, who was enthralled with the details of a clay pot. With shoulders back, she approached the stunned Geldis and locked eyes, "You know this mer?" she rasped.

Geldis was suspicious. Sometimes people came around the Netch asking for the sellsword in the same way. Violence was a common result. By Azura, he wasn't going to clean up blood that night. "If you have a problem with him you take it outside, hear me?"

Confused, she glanced at the doorframe, "Of course."

Geldis considered asking her if she wanted to buy something but she was already across the room. He sighed and ran up the stairs to close the open door. Ash was already getting in.

Teldryn listened to her plodding footsteps while he held a clay pot in his hands. She waited there, quiet. He paused for her to say something only to be greeted with more silence. Finally, he turned around. The slim Argonian looked a bit ragged under the weight of that backpack. She wore a travel-friendly dress. Nothing about her seemed all that remarkable… except that she was an Argonian in Solstheim choosing to poke her snout into a Dunmer establishment. A few more seconds of staring. "I really shouldn't be used to this kind of attention, sera," he drawled with a grin, hoping to provoke her to say something, "I don't see any harm in you looking, though. Can I help you?"

She gestured towards a table and the two sat down. "How much do you know about Skyrim?"

He leaned back into the chair. "Enough for wherever you want to go and most importantly whatever you want to do. I have standards - mostly that you pay me well. The name is Teldryn Sero. Now tell me, what do you need a talented swordsman for?"

The Argonian sat as well, slim shoulders relaxing… but when asked the question she went oddly rigid. In a louder-than-necessary tone, she announced, "Qeejah needs passage to family in Windhelm." She lowered her voice, "More details if you follow me to my room." With a swift nod, she skittered towards the counter and handed over some coins. "One room to stay the night," she requested, "Qeejah has a long day ahead of her tomorrow."

Teldryn saw Geldis draw a hand backward for her to place coins on the table.

"Hm, what brings an Argonian to Solstheim on her way to see family in Windhelm?" demanded Geldis in an overly friendly tone, looking toward Teldryn. Teldryn frowned - the two had spoken about his attitude towards his clients before.

Nonetheless, the woman seemed completely oblivious. She had a wide, toothy smile, "Qeejah needs supplies," she gestured to the young couple, who were sneaking off to a back room, "What are those two doing?"

"Hey! Rent a room or get out! I will call the guards," exasperated, he tossed the Argonian a key and ran after the lovers as they grabbed a few more jars of good sujamma and took off.

With a heavy breath, she pushed towards the rooms, a little bit hunched over. Teldryn shrugged to himself and followed.

"Lucky I guessed where this key went to, right?" she hissed, "Who knows when the innkeeper will be back?" she slipped the backpack off her shoulders and onto the floor with a sense of deliberation.

The rooms in the Netch weren't extravagant, but were better than some of the closets that Teldryn had to pay far steeper prices for in the past. It had enough space for someone traveling with heavy burdens. Also, it featured a small table and even a rough chair! Most important was the luxury of a warm, parasite-free bed. Hard to come by in some places... Solstheim being one of them.

Qeejah collapsed onto a chair, opened a bottle of wine and took a swig.

"The whole Inn to ourselves and you still need a room just to chat?" remarked Teldryn, folding his arms.

"I like my privacy," she responded a little too quickly, "There's a woman here still, did you see?"

"That's just Bralsa Drel- " he stopped and sighed, "Just get on with it."

"I'm looking for my lover, Ah-Ja. We had made a home for ourselves in Morrowind - it was not easy, but we were paid for our efforts to work the land. A old stone house just for the two of us... some would say out of the hardship we had found a little dream come true. I think, given time, the Dark Elves would have accepted us…" she took a deep breath, "Ah-Ja is very sick. He has a nervous disposition, odd pains - he was given too much of the hist as a hatchling," her eyes welled up with tears, "For a while he humiliated himself with skooma. Well, when we moved to Morrowind he got better and then..."

"He's hooked on it again and you believe he fled to Skyrim out of shame," said Teldryn impatiently.

"How did you know?"

"You're not the first person who's come to me with this sort of story," he sighed, "Skyrim is a hard place for Argonians. It's dangerous. Might be worse than Morrowind right now."

"My poor Ah-Ja…" she wrung her hands, "I am not a fighter."

"Have you ever hired a mercenary before?"

"Not at all. But I will do anything to find him and bring him home safe."

"Do you know how much it costs?" asked Sero with a meaningful look.

Her eyes suddenly hardened, tail flicking like an irritated khajiit. "However much you want to charge," she snapped, "How does 100 septims a week sound? Do you want to help me or not?"

Teldryn was taken aback. He searched briefly for workable words, "That's… reasonable," he agreed, "I am worth every coin."

"Done," she closed her eyes, "In the morning I'll get you the gold from my pack."

Teldryn's eyes trailed to the backpack she had so struggled to carry, lying across the floor.

"Let me sleep, for now... I hope I'm not too late for my Ah-Ja. "

He turned to leave her be, shaking his head.

A streak of red sunlight imposed itself in Teldryn's room. It rudely found a place to rest across his face. He stirred, internally cursing at the sun for waking him up. His eyes flashed wide open. Why had he allowed himself to sleep like this? He never slept in on a new client. It was unprofessional. It was... he quickly donned his armor and moved towards the door. There was an ongoing conversation.

"Qeejah didn't mean to come off as so intense yesterday. It had been really hard travel. I was so excited to sleep in a bed I overdid it with the door."

"That's - oh that's nothing," said Geldis with a bland smile, "The door scuffed up the stone but it'll be alright. You're stronger than you look, you know? Gave me quite a scare." He handed her a plate of bread and kwama eggs.

"Oh no! That can't be, you have the 'best Swordsman on Solstheim' here, you must've seen much more than a grumpy Argonian," she took a bite of a boiled egg, absentmindedly examining the yellow-green yolk, "Do you get a lot of Argonians around here?"

Teldryn paused. Was she making friends with Geldis?

Geldis chuckled, "Not at all. People like you are a rare sight in Solstheim."

"Qeejah appreciates the kind words. She can't be the only one you've seen here, though," she pulled her chair closer to the bar.

"Come to think of it," Geldis paused thoughtfully, "One did come through here some months ago - isn't that right, Sero? Paid for his room. Bombarded people with inane questions. He looked… hm, well, just like you, actually."

Teldryn winced, but Qeejah continued on, fully oblivious.

"Maybe he's related to me," she smiled playfully, "All Argonians know each other, after all. We're cousins. Every single one of us.."

The two shared a laugh. Teldryn helped himself to some boiled eggs, relaxing into a chair.

She continued, "And how weird! So what did he ask everyone about? The ash outside? How to fix doors?"

"Actually he-"

Teldryn finally decided to get her attention, his helmet and cowl in his arms. "I don't know what came over me - I don't usually sleep late like this."

Geldis nodded at Qeejah, "It's true, he doesn't," he turned back to Teldryn, "But don't worry, she let you sleep on purpose," he grinned at him, "Apparently she's a delight masquerading as a difficult customer. We've been talking all morning."

"It's not true. Qeejah's mean." she glanced at them while rummaging in her backpack.

Geldis shook his head, "Insisted on paying for the lost jars of good sujamma."

"The loss was my fault."

"It was a kind thing to do. If you're ever at the Netch again, you get a free room. Well, are you ready to leave on your journey, sera?"

She looked up at the sellsword in his chitin armor and handed him a pouch of coins, "Are you ready to go?"

"Always, if you've got the coin."

Picking up her backpack and waving goodbye to her new friend, who was already counting his money, she followed Teldryn outside the inn. Raven Rock was a busy place during the day, dead economy aside. People ran supplies, tilled ashen soil and idly chatted. The eyes of gossips followed the two from the entrance of the Inn to the docks. Teldryn took a furtive glance at his recent charge. She kept her head down - wouldn't look at any of the guards or the people.

"Presumably you're searching Windhelm first?" he asked.

Qeejah nodded, "Windhelm is a good start. I think it's our best hope."

"Why do you think that?"

"There are some things a woman just knows," she said with eyes trained far off into the distance, "I know my Ah-Ja."

Teldryn cut off a snort - he didn't want to lose a job. Instead, he used his 'special voice', a voice curated especially for clients like her, "Of course you know him," he soothed, "Why would you be braving the wretched wastes of Skyrim if you didn't? But... Even with all that you know and all of your determination and love, it won't be easy. People disappear into the wilderness and don't come back. They crawl under city bridges and die of the frost without anyone knowing for years..." he stopped, cursing himself. Qeejah looked stricken. "If you're sure we need to look through Windhelm first, I'll keep away any drunken sot who tries to harass you." He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "Who knows? We may get lucky. All I'm saying is it might be more frustrating than you expect. Other mercenaries will promise you the sun and the moon if you keep them paid - you don't want to be protected by someone like that."

It was so hard to read Argonians. That face might as well have been the swaying of a tree or a piece of rock bouncing off a wall. Qeejah nodded. Again. "Qeejah understands." But did she? Did she really?

Teldryn thought this was about all he needed to know.

The fare for passage into Skyrim was dirt cheap. With a hint of sour nostalgia he remembered the stories he was told of Dunmer clamoring to get into Skyrim through Solstheim with nothing but the clothes on their backs. These days he saw more people trying to get away from that frozen wasteland. Finding Ah-Ja wasn't going to be easy. It couldn't be.

...

Clear as the surface of a mountain stream, the sky was proud that night over the ocean. Teldryn watched the clear waters, taking deep breaths from the ash-free air. Qeejah stayed on deck, chatting relentlessly with the crew. If he thought she was at high risk, he'd be more watchful, but for now Teldryn was content to enjoy the serenity. Well… it couldn't really be serenity, not with Qeejah on the case.

She asked all kinds of questions... about boats. Piles of questions about boats. Each question stacked on the other, getting a little heavier each time. What is it like to sail all the time? Do you really have to weigh a boat down when you dock? How many Argonians do you come across as a sailor? Tedious. She swooned over every little thing, too. Oh, Qeejah's never heard of that before. How many did you say again? Did you say Khajiit caravans from Elsweyr? She so wishes upon the Hist that she could see Elsweyr. Elsweyr... he shuddered. She should thank the Hist she's never been to that tropical hellhole.

Teldryn felt a kind of envy for her. There were few corners of Tamriel that he wasn't sick of traveling to. This run he had been on a thousand times was so novel for her. A shame she was going because… he cringed. What a cynical bastard he was. Given the circumstances, he really should just let the Argonian enjoy herself. He focused on the world around him again. It was getting to be cold. Every droplet of water sprayed from the rolling seas felt like a needle pricking his skin. They needed to be sleeping. Windhelm would be a test of endurance.

...

The skyline of Windhelm was a distant frostbitten finger reaching into the sun. Snow and wind buffeted the boat as the sailors struggled with the capstan. Of course it snows with the sun out in Windhelm, why wouldn't it? Teldryn Sero gritted his teeth, squinting through the glare. Not his favorite place, but he wouldn't complain until it felt justified. Knowing the good people of Windhelm, that would be about as soon as they walked off the boat. Qeejah shivered and reached for a true warmth potion in some box out of her pack. She had a stash, apparently.

As the busy stone docks came into focus, Qeejah stood with steely eyes, pulled her things together and stumbled. Having had a few clients who hadn't traveled by sea before, Teldryn was quick to help her to the safety of solid ground.

Windhelm's docks were filled with the sounds of working Argonians, shoes slapping against the mottled stone. Everywhere you turned, there were Argonians - unloading shipments from far larger boats, packing boxes as tightly as possible, opening boxes, calling out to each other - often not in the common tongue. On calm days it would have reeked of dead fish. Today the wind was keeping most of the odor away. He squinted against snow, looking for a sign of the grey-green scaled man with a red mark across his eyes and spikes on his brow, a curled set of horns on his head. Qeejah's Ah-Ja.

Teldryn took the lead and looked behind him - Qeejah had far more aggressive eyes in Windhelm. She looked closely at everyone she passed by. Some of the Argonians huffed and glared at the Dunmer fully clad in chitin armor, but it was morning. They were very busy. The worst he heard was a pissy "Greetings outlander". Lingering as long as they could without getting in the way, they eventually got close to the back gates.

"It's just not the right time of day to be asking questions around here," noted Teldryn.

The back gate was guarded by two men, standing tall and overproud. These men had important jobs.

"Boots ain't allowed in the city," said the taller one, bored but malicious. The other coughed and shifted in place.

"Since when?"

"Ordinance of 189, outlander."

"Is that the new thing around here? Calling Dunmer outlanders? It'll be riveting when the Nords start trying to pronounce n'wah."

"I think I smell skooma on your breath."

The shorter one squirmed.

Teldryn pulled off his helmet and didn't miss a beat, "The Ordinance of 189 bans Argonians from living in the city. Not from visiting, not from passing through. It's the same reason Dunmer can go to main market but have to go home to the Grey Quarter. If you'd like to haul us off, I'm sure the Captain would be thrilled to see that the guards here are willing to waste resources and time on a poor understanding of the law." He held his breath. It was risky arguing with a guard. They just couldn't hang around the docks all day. He locked eyes with the shorter one, the one who was clearly uncomfortable.

Qeejah was silent - he'd be too if he was in the same situation.

"I-It's true... what he's saying. I think you made a mistake, Omdrir. We'll get in trouble."

After a tense moment, the guard huffed and moved aside, "I was mistaken. Move along and keep that damned helmet off. The boot better keep her claws to herself and be back at the docks by nightfall. She understand me?"

"Loud and clear," said Teldryn, rapidly moving his client out of the way of the guards.

Safely behind the city walls and a closed gate, Teldryn took a deep breath. "It's like I said. I know enough about Skyrim to get you wherever you want to go."

"'I smell skooma on your breath'. What in Oblivion was that?"

"Definitely a Markarth move, but I've had worse said to me in this city. Lived here for a long time. Far longer than I would have cared to," he extended his arm, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you'll want to take my arm. There's a lot of turns and you don't want to get lost here, even for a few minutes."

Without hesitation, she latched on. They headed down a slope where the snow gathered and gradually mixed into dirty slush flattened by boots. The walls of buildings towered over them as they descended, blocking the sunlight. It stank. Sewage, old fruit, sweat, piss, alcohol and stray animals - it all mixed together into an appalling brew of civilized rot. Soon they began to see doorsteps, several Dunmer sitting with nowhere to go, only getting a glimpse of the Argonian woman passing through. Teldryn tried to lead Qeejah as far off to the side as possible in the narrow street. A woman in a tattered gown still managed to grab onto her scaley wrist. Qeejah pulled back, but instead of begging for coin, the old Dunmer woman spat, "Come to gawk? Gawk? Gawk?!"

Teldryn gave her a few coins, "She's my charge, sera. I'm taking her where I can bring her."

"Is that... you?" The old woman patted the ridges of Teldryn's armor, still with one hand firmly wrapped around Qeejah's wrist

"It's me."

She smiled a big toothless smile and let go of the Argonian, "Ambarys missed you."

"That's sweet," Teldryn rolled his eyes.

"He ain't gonna bite."

"Wouldn't blame him if he did. You know what happened last time."

"Come down to the Cornerclub. No Nord in Candlehearth is gonna let you come around in that bugplate armor with a lizard on your arm. No offense to lizards."

"Have you seen any lizards around here?" asked Qeejah, sweetly. The first bit of temper he'd heard out of her, and it had to be with Tarennys. He squeezed her hand sharply. .

"There's a lot of 'em down by the docks."

"No, in the city." Qeejah was getting a bit insistent.

The old woman shrugged, "Can't say, sera. Ambarys has no problem with the lizard folk. You go see him."

"Better keep moving," said Teldryn. "She's old. She means no harm by it."

Qeejah shook her head, "Let's go."

Teldryn led her onward down the slope.

"You know her?" Qeejah asked. She looked up at him, a bit apprehensive. Teldryn didn't blame her. He was silent for a little.

Here buildings blotted out most of the sky, only a few dim lanterns providing what was the majority of the light. Many of the posts were decorated with the tattered, faded flags of once-proud House Hlaalu. The only advantage, thought Teldryn, was that being so deep in this filthy city kept out a lot of the snow.

"She was a well known figure around here when I left ten years ago," he said, "Surprised to see she's still alive, if I'm being honest. Her name's Tarennys Avil. I've heard people say that she was an Ordinator from the Tribunal days… people say a lot of things, though," he paused thoughtfully, "The locals are particularly fond of her, like to keep her out of the cold if they can."

Qeejah sighed, "It's a tough world..." she allowed her own moment of quiet, taking in her surroundings, "We should check that Cornerclub. If an Argonian visited there, someone would know."

Teldryn closed his eyes and hesitantly agreed. The New Gnisis Cornerclub was the most prominent of respectable Windhelm Grey Quarter establishments. Ambarys had eyes on just about everything in the city at large, let alone the tight spaces of the Grey Quarter. He reassured himself - Ambarys wouldn't preach to him in front of a client. Rage of Azura, he better not. He put on his best professional tone, "You have a good idea… I can bring you through a shortcut, but it'll be, well... disgusting."

Qeejah looked up into the slim glimpses of the sky above, "Qeejah can handle it."

Teldryn pulled her through the alley on their left. If he remembered correctly, and he was sure he did, it would cut down the time it took to get there. With only daylight to search Windhelm, time was as fleeting as the turning of the sun.

The alley was almost pitch black, light accessible only on either end. Even the thin Qeejah was compelled to follow from behind, unable to squeeze beside him in the narrow walls. If the smell of the rest of the Grey Quarter was raw, this was intoxicating in its evil stench. Piss, shit, vomit and, Teldryn noted with a hint of bitterness, the distinct sugary smell of skooma. Their boots squished but there was no snow on the ground. Qeejah had his arm in a vice grip.

Exiting the alley felt like crawling out of a sewer.

Teldryn let his client brace herself against his arm. She doubled over and retched as a few curious onlookers meandered over. "Will you be alright?" he asked, grimacing. Years of living in the Grey Quarter and he still hesitated to use those alleys. They gained about half an hour of time and it didn't feel worth it.

"Qeejah… Qeejah will be alright," she gathered her bearings, "Just lead on."

The Dunmer dispersed almost as soon as they gathered, joking to themselves about the "tourist".

As Teldryn led Qeejah toward the Cornerclub it gradually became more populated. The oils worn by the people, burning herbs and the aroma of traditional food helped cover a good deal of the smell, trash was somewhat cleared from the street and the atmosphere was a fair bit more active and jovial. The area served as something of a market for the locals of the Grey Quarter. Someone began to play the viol and Qeejah's head swiveled around looking for the source of the music.

A Dunmer child wearing a hooded dress ran up to them carrying a basket. "Want to buy a flower, sera?"

Just as Qeejah was about to stoop down to look at the girl's collection Teldryn shook his head and led his client away with an insistent but gentle tug. Once out of earshot, he said to her quietly, "That's a front for pickpockets."

He wanted to say more - how the children were lied to, had their pay taken from them, how the adults running the scheme themselves were wretched and desperate. But his mode of professionality wasn't compatible with just how much he would have ranted about it. The whole city exuded despair. Ambarys still put in so much effort… a flurry of old pain flirted with his stomach. Damn it, he was going to face the man.

A few other merchants sold various things in the streets - Teldryn doubted any of them had proper licenses to sell things here, but it didn't matter to him. These people were one of the only aspects of Windhelm he found charming. Jewelry mysteriously marked down! Aldu Intara's special chicken sticks! Fruits, vegetables and fish, as cheap as it gets! A Redguard woman with a collection of dulled scimitars caught his eye - she was definitely new. He couldn't help but wonder what she was doing in the Grey Quarter selling what was for all intents and purposes expensive, useless baubles.

Qeejah eyed all of the merchants, who weren't shy about calling out to her. Lovely Argonian, see here, he has good fish! Fresh fish, sera, fresh fish! She turned to Teldryn, "Qeejah wants to talk to some of these people."

He was quick to agree, wishing to put off seeing Ambarys.

They started with the fishmonger, a slight Dunmer man with a winning smile and a wild topknot. He had his wares stretched out on a light box serving as a stand. Should the guards come snooping around the Grey Quarter, and very few of them ever bothered to do so, he could move it easily. Regardless of the circumstances, he was proud of his fish.

"A-ha! The lady knows a good deal when she sees one," he said to Teldryn, "Knows her fish."

Teldryn was sure the man thought that was a compliment. Qeejah, with her friendly flourish, grinned at him, "It all looks so good, sera."

The fish laid out were sickly from the polluted waters of Windhelm, nothing he'd recommend anyone eating, especially someone not from the city. Nonetheless, when she started chatting about the most mundane things under the sun (What kind of fish do you catch? Do Argonians buy from you? Oh, tell Qeejah your creepy Argonian story, sera! What about Khajiit? How'd you start selling in the market?), Teldryn knew well enough that his client getting food poisoning was the least of his worries.

She finally arrived at her main point, "Have you seen an Argonian around here? He would have had a stripe across his eyes and horns over his eyebrows -"

"The scaleba- eh, scaled man knocked over my stall!" the fishmonger's smile faded, "Why? You know him?"

Qeejah looked down, "I'm so sorry he's troubled you. He's not well. What happened?"

He shrugged, "All I can say is he went in the Cornerclub and came out in a fight. Spooked damn near everyone on this street."

Qeejah's eyes widened, "That isn't like him!"

The fishmonger leaned forward, ranting, "Knocked over my stand and used my frozen fish as a fucking bludgeon. Someone has a lot to answer for if you ask me."

Teldryn grimaced. Many in the near vicinity had paused, taking quiet glances away from their shopping and chores. This man was going to make a scene if he didn't do something.

"Did you see where he went? Please, I..."

"No! I was too busy picking up his mess! That was a good 50 septims of damage."

Qeejah rubbed her hands, "I - I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't do a damn thing. That was ten fish and a crate of fruit ruined. I toiled for those goods, out over the cold ocean," he grabbed her hand, "You're responsible for him, aren't you? You should help me out. It's the right thing to do. With a little interest -"

That was enough. Teldryn casually stepped between the two, "Apologies. We weren't aware debt collectors sold rotten fish around here."

The fishmonger released her hand like it was a venomous snake. He seemed to want to say something but looked over the sellsword and chose silence instead.

Qeejah hurried away with Teldryn in tow, taking long strides to keep up with her pace. She still wanted to speak to another merchant. It was worth a shot - but they had a clear lead.

"Are you alright?" Teldryn struggled ever more with her impassive reptile face.

"We have good news. He was here," she took a deep breath, "Do you think that fish-seller will be okay? He -"

Teldryn chuckled coldly, "He thought he could guilt you into paying someone else's damages. With interest. It's a cruel trick whether his story is true or not. Don't think anything of it."

The Jewelry Seller was far more aggressive at pushing a sale. She was an ancient grey woman with a greasy face and burning eyes that clearly hadn't faded with age. "Travelers like you have good eyes, muthsera," she laid out a selection of rings, a ruby pendant and an ornate set of dangling earrings studded with crystals, her hands wrapped in bandages, "Look at them glitter. You can't find them elsewhere, not at the Nord Market, not at Sadri's," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "Not for these prices."

 _Muthsera_. That's old fashioned… and, when used talking to a potentially rich customer, regardless of status, uniquely unorthodox. This woman valued the social order of the almighty coin and nothing else. In that context, it really wasn't a gesture of respect, just one of cold pragmatism. Did Qeejah realize that?

Qeejah's conversational skills were no match for this seller, "These are beautiful. There's not a lot of things like this back home-"

"Impress your friends, bring it home. It'd look lovelier around your neck," the Jewelry Seller insisted, gesturing to the ruby pendant.

"Where do you-"

"Why care about where?" she snapped, "It's cheap, beautiful and genuine, muthsera. Buy something or please move on."

Qeejah's yellow eyes glinted like the edge of a knife and she lowered her voice, "Let me look, then," with a cough and an odd laugh, she brushed her hand over every single gem-encrusted bit of metal, focusing on a particular ring, turning it over in her fingers with half-closed eyes, "Oh, it's so beautiful! I'll take this!" she said brightly. Qeejah let her backpack slip off her shoulders, and she knelt to the ground to presumably rummage for coin.

What a waste of coin and words. Teldryn glanced at the Argonian and considered whether he should say something - warn her that this woman was probably a fence or a thief and direct her somewhere else. It was her money, but this woman seemed especially foul, like she pried the jewelry off of corpses she unearthed herself. He looked closely at the ring that was apparently so beautiful she was compelled to buy it. It was dull and studded with what looked like even duller amethysts.

"30 septims, muthsera. Good eye, good eye…" the old woman said, "Have a sweetheart, dear?"

30 septims for that junk!?

Qeejah went stiff and then sighed sadly, "I'm looking for him."

Feigning obvious concern, the woman gasped, "He run out on you? Or are you just looking to rope yourself a man in Windhelm? Maybe that Dunmer following you around can help you on your search… he looks rather lost, if you catch my drift."

Oh, that was rich. A million different retorts brewed on the tip of Teldryn's tongue but Qeejah cut them all short, claiming her 'treasure'. He didn't even see his client stop to count the coin when she placed it on the box.

She unexpectedly took Teldryn's arm and pointed in the direction of another merchant. The two were off.

"Some people open their mouths and foul things come out," Qeejah looked over at Teldryn with a precious twinkle in her eye, "It's kind of funny, actually..."

"What's funny?" the sellsword raised an eyebrow, "And if you don't mind me asking-"

"Oh it's nothing!" Qeejah turned the ring over in her hands and put it away in a pouch, "What do you think? Should we talk to another merchant or go see that friend of yours? What was his name again?"

Teldryn was overcome with a prickly sensation, "What was it about that ring?"

Qeejah shrugged and looked away. Now he had to know. Teldryn pushed the question, "It was 30 septims… seemed a bit much, for what it was."

The Argonian smiled meekly, "Can't a lady keep some secrets?" She still wouldn't meet his eyes.

What in Oblivion was he doing? It was her damned money. Did he just not want her to get swindled? She acted so strange turning over those rings in her hands. "Of course, sera," said Teldryn with an uneasy nod, "But remember time's not on our side."

"Let's go talk to that friend of yours. If you trust him, Qeejah will trust him."

Since when did she ever talk about trust? Qeejah appeared to trust people by default, words rushing out of her faster than she could ever hope to speak them… but then Teldryn remembered when they had first met.

 _Follow me to my room for more details._

 _... End Chapter 1 ..._

First of all, I'd like to thank Syllisjehane for their help in reviewing and editing my work. I really appreciate their suggestions and it helped set the tone for the rest of what I wrote.

What do you think about Qeejah? Is she annoying or interesting?


	2. Chapter 2

In spite of the morning the arch inviting customers into the Cornerclub was dusky, lit by two flickering torches. The entire area surrounding the establishment could have shined in the daylight if there was any. Figures. Ambarys couldn't possibly be content to simply keep the inside of his Cornerclub clean. Teldryn couldn't help but hesitate to take those final steps. He took a breath and chuckled, doing what he could to reassure Qeejah.

"The barkeeper here is serious and likes to talk to himself, but I think he'll help you if he knows anything," Teldryn smiled softly, "It's been years since I've lived here but I still know a few people. He was a friend of mine." Qeejah searched Teldryn, looking for silent answers to silent questions – perhaps in some ways she was sharper than her demeanor betrayed. At least her rampant curiosity counted for something, he thought, but why did it have to shine through now?

"That should make things easier," she said cheerfully.

Teldryn took a cursory note of the surroundings and opened the heavy door, allowing Qeejah inside. A cloud of warmth rushed to greet them along with the aroma of roasted fish and snowberries. Oddly enough, the place was empty. Even the barkeeper was gone. The New Gnisis Cornerclub was rough but clean, minded by one of most tidy people in all of Tamriel. Porous wood creaked beneath their boots. It must have been too early for Ambarys to expect any real business. Teldryn fondly ran his hand over one of the old banners.

Qeejah let her backpack slide onto a chair, sitting down at the other end of a round table. It was still morning and they had a long day ahead of them. "Something has been bothering Qeejah... she simply can't ignore it," she looked the sellsword in the eye, very serious.

"What is it?"

"Are you sure we're supposed to be here?" asked Qeejah, head swiveling around the empty room, "Smells like someone's been cooking, but -"

"No, no, it's alright, the place is open!"

A scrawny Dunmer with hard features carried a platter into the main room. The roasted slaughterfish looked as delicious as it smelled. Concentrating on balancing the large plate he welcomed the two in, "Some bards are stopping here today. Needed to prepare and all that, and – damn it!" the dish slipped from his hands. Teldryn moved quickly to rescue it. In a blur, he had the platter safely in his grip.

"You move like a cliff racer, sera, thank you."

Teldryn put down the platter. Ambarys' distracted expression morphed into one of abject disgust as he caught a glimpse of the telltale mohawk and chitin armor. That's a good sign. His eyes moved from Teldryn, to his Argonian client, and to Teldryn again, "You? Don't you have a grave to rob or something?"

"I missed you too," cooed Teldryn with a rueful simper, "Good to know you still think I move like a cliff racer, though. It's been years."

"For good reason," Ambarys peeked over Teldryn's shoulder to get a look at the slight Argonian woman with yellow eyes, "I'm sorry, miss, did you want a drink?"

"We actually needed to ask you some questions," added Qeejah.

Ambarys' eyes narrowed, "About what?" his rough voice rose and contracted to a sharp point.

She looked like she was about to panic, "Just, ah, just..." she looked around helplessly, "Qeejah... She's... she's looking...ah..."

Suddenly now she can't find the words? Teldryn was about to answer the question himself when Ambarys' eyes softened, "Damn, it's really alright. Just tell me why you're here."

Teldryn could see that Ambarys was torn – he carried old wounds and suspicions same as anyone else, and the wounds between the two of them were very deep. The Riot Years made them both harder people, but for all of Ambarys' posturing and rants, Teldryn knew he couldn't bring himself to be outright cruel to a distressed person. He went especially soft for people asking for his help.

"Qeejah got the impression that you could help," she folded her hands together. Little did she know that she just said the magic words. She looked genuinely hopeful.

Ambarys scowled at the quiet Teldryn. He had decided it was his fault, then.

Silence clearly made Qeejah anxious, "There's a missing person, he was here some time ago. He's very close to me. He's been gone for months and Qeejah couldn't just stay and do nothing. Its easier to get to Windhelm through Solstheim than over the mountains... and Qeejah can't fight, she couldn't come here by herself..."

His expression became weary, "So you found yourself a bodyguard. Sero's a good one. Don't mean to assume, but you looking for an Argonian, by any chance?"

Qeejah nodded.

"Red stripe? Horns? A bit gray?" Ambarys was troubled with his thoughts, shifting in place.

"Yes!" she breathed deeply, "That's him."

"Sit down. Have a drink. Don't, ah – don't worry about paying," he managed a smile, "You're a first time customer, so it's on me. And I think I missed your name."

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Teldryn gave a concerned look to Ambarys, who wouldn't return it. He gestured for him to sit as well but kept him at a distance.

Hesitantly, she took a seat, "Qeejah," she said aptly, leaning forward.

Ambarys focused on mixing a drink. A little bit of honey, low-quality sujamma, mint and mixed with crushed apple. Give it a little shock and voila – you have Skyrim Shein. A specialty of his. He liked to say it reflected the spirit of the Dunmer of Windhelm, reusing the old and cast-aside and transforming it. At least he did when Teldryn knew him well. The Argonian watched with interest, a little bit star-struck at the the shock spell and smoke gently emanating from the mug and pitcher.

"That's brilliant," Qeejah's eyes shined and she took the mug into her hands. For all of the wonder on her face, she still only took a small sip, "Wonderful, but Qeejah is afraid she does not drink much. Tell me about where you saw him... my... my Ah-Ja."

Teldryn was not going to test Ambarys by asking for a drink. He was sure to give him plenty of room.

Ambarys sighed and held his head in his hand, rubbing his eyes, "The Grey Quarter's a pretty tight-knit place," he began coolly, "You might not know everyone but you can tell when someone isn't from here. This... this Ah-Ja?"

"Ah-Ja."

"He had the mark of not only an outsider to Windhelm but all of Skyrim. Went out in the freezing cold at night, came back exhausted. Real strange."

Qeejah's mouth fell open, "Do you know why?"

Of course she knew why her skooma addicted boyfriend went out at night. Just like that, pity for her drained into Teldryn's lungs, diluting the scorn. It had to be humiliating covering for someone who left her behind, sparing the pride of an absentee man... Did Ah-Ja want to be found? Those thoughts weren't going to start paying him any time soon – he tuned them out.

"Couldn't say. Terrible to do in Windhelm, especially for an Argonian. I told him it was a bad idea but he mumbled something about the night air being good for his lungs. Didn't believe a word of it, myself."

"Aren't Argonians not allowed in the city at night?"

"Only if they get caught," Ambarys smiled humorlessly, "And I wasn't about to rat him out to the Nord guards. If they aren't going to care about _actual_ crimes committed in the Grey Quarter, I won't report Argonians wandering around in the city walls at night. Can't help but think the Nords ought to get thrown out of a city one day..."

Teldryn's lips tightened. He swallowed his usual backtalk. If the two of them started arguing it would be disastrous for his client's search. Ambarys was clearly their primary lead to finding this troubled man. That meant not acknowledging any prior disagreements.

"But Ah-Ja, he-" for once, Qeejah was intent on keeping the topic focused.

"Right. He must've had a lot on his mind. Nervous, actually. Still chatted up about anyone who would come in. I... I let him stay here for a while. Seemed like needed somewhere to rest his head, you know? Didn't make any trouble and almost no one ever rents the extra room. Like I said, the guards aren't too observant around here," Ambarys leaned onto the counter.

"You do have a talent for looking after the hard cases," Teldryn said softly.

The bitter-faced Dunmer wasn't going to acknowledge that.

Qeejah stared at her mostly full glass, "All that and he never told you his name?"

"He called himself Grass-Runner," Ambarys chose his words carefully, "Does that mean anything to you?"

"No. But everything you said sounds just like him."

Ambarys' attention went straight to old stains from water-damage on the walls, "He got into a fight and got dragged away. I should have just told you."

"You make it sound like he died - " began Teldryn, who went silent as soon as he spoke.

Qeejah buried her head in her hands.

"He's disappeared," Ambarys lowered his voice, "This city didn't just stop getting worse after you left, Sero. There's been disappearances but no one's come back."

Time to shut up again.

Qeejah focused with cold, yellow eyes, harboring that same impassive energy she had when she burst into the Retching Netch like she was a guard busting a skooma den, "Did you see what happened? Or did you hear about it?"

"I saw some of it," Ambarys inched closer to her from behind the counter, checking the door, "It was bright daylight. He was sitting at a table with a man, just talking. And they started arguing. Not shouting or anything, but you can tell they didn't see eye to eye about something. It made me nervous."

"Nervous?" urged Qeejah.

"Yes, it's hard to explain. Call it intuition," he glanced at Teldryn, "I've known some rough people in my life. You get a sense for it."

"Qeejah is sure you have," she smiled sadly, "She wishes we met under different stars, so we could talk all about it. Go on."

"Well, I went to go get a scroll or something – I keep one around to scare people looking to make trouble - and when I came back they were on the ground. It went to shit from there. Tables got turned over, it spilled out into the streets and someone must have been stabbed because there was blood all over my floor," Ambarys grimaced, "'Ah-Ja' didn't seem violent. I don't think he was the one with the knife."

So that was it. As Teldryn came to terms with the new information he found it made him a little furious that Ambarys wouldn't just say it, too afraid of making people lose hope. That kind of 'hope' just hurt people in the end. He could already see the devastation strike Qeejah's face. She was trying so hard to look brave. Maybe after they finish talking with Ambarys it'll be time to ask her if she's ready to go home.

"You didn't go get the guards?" Qeejah's voice wavered.

Ambarys and Teldryn finally exchanged looks. The guards wouldn't care. They never did. What would they do about some Argonian foreigner nobody knew? Absolutely nothing. No doubt they even left the inhabitants of the Grey Quarter to clean up the mess on their own.

"It's like I said," Ambarys growled, "The guards don't care about actual crimes committed in the Grey Quarter. They leave us here to rot in an open sewer."

"It's true, Qeejah, it's horrible." He paused, "I think we need to chat. Do you mind if we take a moment?" Teldryn motioned for her to follow him.

Ambarys rigidly nodded, "You can use the back room if you want. I'll have company any moment."

Qeejah agreed, and she rose from her seat, a downcast expression passed over her scaled face.

Teldryn needed to break it down. Deep down she probably realized it was some sort of skooma deal gone bad – going on and on about that part would just be rubbing salt in the wound. However, he needed to focus on the reality of the situation, that Ah-Ja could just as likely be dead as he could be alive. He'd seen clients insist on searching for people long after it became hopeless. It was miserable and it provided him coin he didn't like taking. Some of them he eventually refused to accept payments from... many went home, and a few others found another mercenary with less scruples or experience.

She was going to cry. They always do. That wasn't the worst part. The worst part was when they argued with him, thinking he had some malicious reason for telling them the possibilities. Not that he could blame them – it wasn't easy to know they might have to give up, especially if there was even the tiniest chance of a good outcome to latch onto... not taking into account the many things that could go wrong with one untrained person and one professional diving into the wilderness and skooma dens of a wartorn Skyrim looking for someone who could be dead.

Ambarys carefully drew a curtain as the sellsword and his client took a step inside. Stacks and stacks of slightly damaged crates lined the right side of the room – filled with perfectly serviceable but half-priced liquor, no doubt. It was very warm in the back room and the scent of good food was strong. Teldryn's stomach grumbled at him, luckily low enough for only him to hear.

"What are you thinking?" Teldryn asked, keeping close eye contact with Qeejah.

"Qeejah thinks... Qeejah... She thinks she ought to cry, but nothing will come," she looked down and slumped onto a crate.

"That's alright," he reassured in a soft voice and sat onto a crate next to her, "I need to know what you want to do."

Her breath caught in her throat, "Qeejah... she... what do you think?"

"I think barring someone around here personally knowing who hurt Ah-Ja, we're going to have a very hard time finding new leads. People come and go in this city all the time. There aren't patrols on the roads of Skyrim – it's perilous even for the natives. Obviously I can't predict the future, but things..." Mephala save him, it was a lot harder to say these things when he really had to, "Things aren't looking good for Ah-Ja."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a chance the man's dead, Qeejah. The injury, that someone wanted to hurt him in the first place, he doesn't know anyone here, and we don't know if he even had any money with him. He was here in the deep of Winter... and..." Teldryn trailed off awkwardly.

"You think he crawled under a bridge somewhere," she sounded parched, drained of emotion.

Or jumped off one. Sometimes people like Ah-Ja go looking for somewhere to die. Teldryn was all too familiar with violence – the bodies hadn't bothered him for years. It was the reactions of hopeful clients like her that stuck with him, quiet resignation, shrieking, sobbing, punching walls. Sometimes clients directed their anger at him because there wasn't a clear figure to blame. Qeejah didn't seem the type to mix grief and rage. He frowned at her shaking frame. She probably couldn't hurt him even if she wanted to.

"It's a possibility, but it isn't the only possibility. Skooma might have been involved in that fight and poking around the gangs who deal in that is dangerous, even for the most skilled warriors in the world." he looked at his boots, "It's clear we need to find this attacker, if we continue."

"How would we start?"

"Well-"

The front door opened. With a little interest Teldryn wondered if it was those bards Ambarys was talking about, he quickly turned back to Qeejah to finish his point about how difficult finding a lead would be. She was on the edge of the crate with her back hunched. "We could check-"

"What brings you here?" Ambarys sounded gruff, using a tone he only used when he was trying to hide his fear.

Teldryn sprang to his feet, Qeejah following. The two got close to the curtain.

"We all want a drink sometimes," the stranger had a smooth male voice, with a Nordic accent undoubtedly from the mountains of the Morrowind/Skyrim border, "The Cornerclub has good drinks, doesn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it does," continued Ambarys, "But I get the feeling that's not why you're here."

"It's about a gift from Vasha."

A weapon was drawn and Ambarys cried out. Teldryn and Qeejah shuffled out from behind the curtain. A slender man with a black mustache and long dark hair had Ambarys in a vice grip, bringing him closer to the knife in his right hand.

Teldryn and the man briefly made eye contact. He cursed and nearly dropped the knife.

"What's all this about?" Teldryn asked, reaching for his weapon.

The knife sank into Ambarys in an instant. He screamed and collapsed against the wall – his attacker fled outside.

"You're hurt!" Teldryn rushed to Ambarys' side to help him slide to the floor without hurting himself any more than he already was. It looked painful but he wasn't bleeding much. The knife, an ugly iron blade, was embedded in his shoulder. It needed to stay there barring the threat of poison.

"Fuck!" gasped Ambarys with tears in his eyes, "Fuck!"

As a reflex he tried to reach for the knife with his right hand only for Teldryn to move it away.

"Was that the man who-"

He nodded, "Yes. Agh! Just go. Qeejah can-" panting, he looked around, "Qeejah?"

Teldryn caught a glimpse of a tail in the ajar door frame, "The hell is she doing?"

"Go! I..." he struggled to say his words, "Hgn. I'm not fine. Ergk. Just – shit in a guar pit fuck that hurts, I – I'm not gonna die."

Ambarys made another attempt at pulling out the knife. It was deliberate this time. Teldryn blocked him again, locking eyes with the stubborn man.

"Don't pull the knife out on your own."

"You're killing me, Tel," Ambarys took a sharp breath through his teeth, "That fetcher's running down the street. Do something about it!"

"Are you light-headed? Nauseous?" Teldryn looked over his old friend – as long as he didn't try dislodging the knife without a healer's help, he should be 'fine', but he had to be terrified. Ambarys got very tough when he was afraid and in pain.

"Obviously not," he tried to roll his eyes.

Two demanding situations. One man's patience. "Do you think he poisoned you?" Teldryn instantly regretted his blunt words. Nothing makes someone want to instantly rip out a weapon like the word 'poison'. But if it were poisoned...

The scowl on Ambarys' face faded into something more uncertain, "Poison?" he questioned. His right hand crawled to the wound on his shoulder. He touched the hilt, "Do you think that's likely? That he came here to kill me?"

"We need to get you to a healer. Come on," With careful hands Teldryn let Ambarys use him as leverage to stand up.

Ambarys, on unsteady feet, stood where he was. "She'll get hurt. You need to go after her."

That's right. He was working.

"Will someone help you?"

"It's not your concern and it can't be helped," he said deliberately.

That bitter, grudge-holding goblin of a Dunmer could go fuck himself if he was going to throw back decades old words at him in the middle of an emergency. It was very hard to make Teldryn irritated at a man who had just been stabbed but Ambarys apparently had the skill of a tonal architect. If it didn't sting so much Teldryn would've been impressed – a knife two inches in his shoulder and he had an amazing memory.

Still. Ambarys was hurt.

"Get help," his mouth was dry. Blood pounded in his ears.

Teldryn sprinted out of the shop. His qualms about leaving his old friend unattended were put aside for finding his client. A concerned woman tried to stop him. Did you see an Argonian run here? Yes? He apologized and moved out of her way. Icy air slapped his face. Slippery. Cast flame on the ice. Better. A shadow? Qeejah! And even further ahead – their man.

Qeejah moved fast and oddly graceful. She lunged over debris. With a little flourish she used bottom edges of buildings for maneuvering blocked areas. She was getting further away from Teldryn and closer to the attacker. And damn the wings of cliff racers, Teldryn was not slow-moving! He huffed. What was "I'm not a fighter, please help me" even going to do when she caught him?

Teldryn leaped over the pile of old crates that seem to build up in some parts of the city and slid forward. "Damn it!" he stumbled on a sheet of ice.

Qeejah glanced behind her and slowed down. She wasn't gaining on the attacker anymore but kept pace with him. Finally. Teldryn could get close enough to ask her what the fuck she was thinking, perhaps in those exact words.

"You're fast," puffed Teldryn, invoking a tone between a question, curse and comment.

Qeejah nodded and exhaled some vague agreement like 'mhm'.

To say she was fast was an understatement. Deliberately slowing herself down, she was still hard to follow – her feet were just a little more nimble, a little more careful. Qeejah passed between people and rubble with a cat's ease.

"He's the one, no doubt," she said, gritting her teeth, "Or it's nothing less than a practical joke handed to us by Sithis himself."

Ooh. A casual reference to Sithis. Colorful.

"Ambarys says so, anyways," Teldryn held back a few other choice comments, "You put yourself in a lot of danger."

"Qeejah reacted," she tried to look back over in his direction for a moment, but needed to focus on what was in front of her, "Sorry."

Sorry? Sorry?! Sorry?! 'I'm not a fighter' runs off after a violent thug with only a good heart and a plucky spirit and she says 'sorry'? 'Sorry' with the blasé tone of someone who stepped on your foot. Sorry, Qeejah forgot to pay you back those 15 septims, here you go, Teldryn! Sometimes people just forget to tell folk they have a death wish that defies the concerns of everyone around them, it happens all the time! Sorry!

...There were more pressing things. Breathe. The vast majority of people don't understand what counts as a 'bad idea' in these sorts of situations. Keep running. She wasn't responsible for the attack. Run. Breathe. Qeejah moved quick.

But their man was disappearing from view. He was about to get into the other part of Windhelm, the part where a running Dunmer and Argonian would get stopped. And just like that, a guard stepped in front of them. A woman, from the looks of it. Teldryn slid to a halt and Qeejah grasped a wall to stabilize herself.

"Hail," she said, "Dangerous running on the ice like this. There a problem or you just trying to get yourself hurt for no reason?"

When the two of them stared back at her in stunned silence she positioned herself between Qeejah and Teldryn, hand resting on her war-axe. In accented but well-spoken Dunmeris, she continued, _"Why would a mer in armor chase a poor lizard_ _in the alleys?"_

Teldryn's stomach sank. It had been a long time since he heard a human speak Dunmeris.

"Speak or I'll haul you both to the dungeon to spare the trouble. _You understand this? Without a story both of you will be lawbreakers._ "

...

Finally, the second chapter. This was difficult to write but I hope the tone and pacing was decent. Constructive criticism and comments really do help. I've been working and don't have as much time to write as I used to.

So I'm trying to keep my characters interesting where they aren't likable and likable where they aren't interesting. And of course, it's almost impossible for a writer to have an accurate idea of the quality of their work. I just hope it isn't terrible.

I've sort of constructed a personality in Ambarys and Teldryn from their dialogue in the game. I wanted to make them very flawed but interesting characters. Want to emphasize that the third person in this story is filtered through Teldryn's perspective, his character makes assumptions that aren't always true. Not everything he thinks is supposed to be sympathetic to the audience.


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